Of Age and Innocence
by only2blame
Summary: Eruanna is a Night Elf coming of age, but on the evening where everything should be going right, nothing seems to go her way. In a fit of childish despair, she runs off into the dark, only to find that maybe things really aren't that bad...


_Okay, first of all, let me give ya a little warning... this story is smut. Pure, uninhibited SMUT. Originally posted on AFF. This is the first story in Atal and Eruanna's tale, and what birthed the creation of "Tryst". It's not my best, nor is it my favorite piece of work, but this is what started the whole mess, so I figured I'd give you all a taste of what drives my insanity ^^_

_Again, there's sex in this, and pretty much ONLY SEX. If you don't get into SEX (gods, why wouldn't you? O.o ) then please hit your "back" button now. If you don't like Trolls or them sexin' up women from the Alliance, then again, your "back" button was put there for a reason._

_Reviews, critiques and suggestions are always welcome, so don't be afraid to leave a comment! I love getting feedback =)_

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Eruanna panted heavily, her legs pumping frantically against the hard, cracked ground. Her heart beat so strongly, any moment now she expected to see it burst from her breast, splattering the sun dried grass. The air was still warm from the day's heat, but Eruanna shivered uncontrollably, despite the heat, despite the blood coursing through her veins.

It had started out as a simple walk – a means to an end. She had been frustrated, angry with her parents for their circumstances. She was far away from home, from Teldrassil, where surely even then, those of her House, friends of her House, _servants_ of her house were celebrating her coming of age. And where was she, during this important, momentous time in her long, long life? She was stuck in the middle of nowhere, in the Barrens, forced to eat substandard foods, drink watered down, perverted versions of Elvish wine, and sleep on a lumpy, uncomfortable pallet as apposed to her own, luxurious bed. There was no music for her, no dances honoring her adulthood. Her Father had claimed she was acting childish, unfitting of a now adult Night Elf, and that she should have more respect for him, her Mother, and herself. But Eruanna would not stand for it, would not tolerate this insult to her person.

She had reached her 110th year that day, and there was no one to congratulate her properly. So she had stomped away in a huff, her anger ruling her common sense as she slipped into the darkness, her Father cursing, her Mother calling after her to return. She had walked for nearly an hour, her rage almost spent, when she had heard the approaching ambush.

Quillboar, they were called. Fierce little pigmen, with guns and magics, too cruel and wild to be anything but beasts, despite their advancements. She had heard at least three, though she would not have been surprised if there were more. And she, inexperienced and frightened in the wild, had ran like a fool. The minute her pace picked up, the hunting party had squealed joyously, the thrill of the hunt having begun.

Her legs were long and agile, though somehow, they had managed to keep up with Eruanna's long, frantic strides. They were grunting, snorting, squeaking out in their disgusting language, branching off to try and clip her sides, falling back with the group, moving forward again. They were trying to confuse her, push her into a blind panic so she would make a mistake. And Goddess, she was close to losing her composure completely.

Through the light of the moon she scanned the terrain ahead of her, begging for a respite, somewhere she could hide. There was practically nothing there – rocking outcroppings, not nearly deep enough to house her, a few boulders that were easily passed by. There was a few trees as well, but she knew by the proximity of her hunters that she would never be able to scale one fast enough to escape them completely. They would see her scrambling up the wiry, dry limbs, and proceed to chop the damn thing down.

No, there was no where to run.

Just as the thought passed through her mind, Eruanna screamed, for suddenly, there were hands on her. She kicked out, screeching her fear as the hands, large and strong, lifted her from her armpits and up, up, up. Then she was pressed against a warm body, an arm around her waist, a hand clamped over her mouth to keep her quiet. She was lost to her panic, mad with it, and she scratched at the securing arms, tried to peel the fingers from her lips. She felt her fingernails bite into skin, heard a soft grunt of acknowledging pain beside her ear, but the one holding her did not move, did not give her respite.

Eventually she calmed enough to realize that she was not coming to harm, save for the tightness of the hold her rescuer had on her, nearly cutting off all her air. She chanced a glance down, to the ground below, watching as a small herd of seven Quillboar ran right below her, and away, into the dark. She shivered, even long after they had left her sight and hearing, too afraid to move, lest she draw their attention.

A heavy sigh behind her, a chest pressing into her back and a warm, strangely sweet breath whispering her hair across her cheek reminded her that she was alive, and still quite enveloped in a pair of arms.

Eruanna squirmed a little, a tendril of fear creeping up her spine when her rescuer did not relax his hold. She made a muffled noise of protest, her fingers coming up to pat at the back of the large hand that was still over her mouth, letting the person know that she was alright, that he needn't continue. Gradually, his grip loosened, his hand fell away, though he kept an arm about to waist, poised and ready, should she slip forward and off of the branch they were sitting on.

Eruanna licked her lips, dry now from her voice and the dusty palm of her rescuer. She shifted slightly, to turn and look at the man behind her, but his arm tightened again, as though afraid she were about to fall.

"I am alright now. You can release me." she whispered, her hands gently pushing on his forearm.

He did not let her go right away, staying perfectly still, but when she sighed in exasperation he got the hint, his hands going to her sides to help keep her steady as she squirmed and turned to face him.

Again, Eruanna screamed.

The Troll before her winced from the sound, one eye shutting, his upper lip curling over one of his tusks. She pushed at his chest, pushed herself away, remembering all too late that she was still up in the tree. She fell backwards, her arms and legs flailing. As she dropped, her eyes shut tightly, and she braced herself for the headfirst impact.

Only, the pain did not come. Instead there was a feeling of weightlessness, and a strong grip around her ankle. Eruanna cracked one eye open to pure darkness, and the smell of dyed silk. She squealed, both eyes open now, her hands frantically pushing the skirt of her robe up, to cover her now very exposed legs and hips, the flimsy undergarments she had taken to wearing recently.

"Let me go! Let me go, damn you!" she cried, her struggles in vain. Finally, the Troll must have taken pity on her, for she felt her shoulders gently touch the ground, the rest of her body following. The huge thing had eased his way down the branch to the dusty floor, making sure she did not injure herself as he let her rest.

Once he released her ankle, Eruanna found herself scooting backward, one hand still pushing down her skirts to hide herself, facing the beast before her. She stopped quickly, her back pressing against the trunk of another tree in the small grove. He stood a few feet away, squatting down to get a better look at her. He had the most curious look on his face, as though he had never seen a Night Elf before, and he moved slowly, like one would do to a spooked animal. He did not fear being bitten, but rather, he feared scaring her off.

Eruanna was plenty frightened, she felt nearly faint with the amount of fear she had ran with that night, and perhaps that exhaustion was what had made her relax before him. She herself had never seen a Troll face to face, after all, and she felt that, perhaps, if he had no shame in examining her, she should take the opportunity to do the same.

He was smaller than she had expected; tall, assuredly, and lanky in the length of his limbs. He had muscle definition, reminding her of the kind a man could gain from swimming regularly, but not nearly as bulky as the drawings she had seen back in Teldrassil. His hair was standing tall, coming to a fine, flamed shape at the crown, thick tufts of it growing along his jawline. She noticed, with a strange thrill of fear and wonder, that there were small, dangling braids dropping over his shoulders, each secured with tiny, rodent like skulls. Even in the moonlight, she could see the colors painted on the skulls, the hand crafted beads serving as secondary decorations. The craftsmanship was simple, quite possibly made by this particular Troll himself, but Eruanna could not help but be fascinated.

She was started out of her revere when his voice, deep and thick with accent, whispered across to her, "Ri' ih b'hom."

Her eyes shot to his; he was still crouched there, now noticeably closer, however, as though he had inched forward while her mind had wandered. His expression was one of innocence now, all mischievous curiosity gone. Eruanna eyed him warily, the stories she had heard of Trolls wailing at the back of her mind: they told her not to trust it, not to give in to the kindness he had already shown her. Trolls were tricky, fierce and deadly, and had absolutely no qualms about tearing an innocent Night Elf limb from limb.

Of course, Eruanna was never one to pay much attention to propriety. She distinctly remembered sleeping through almost half of her lessons, anyway. So when the Troll reached out, one thick, pale blue fingertip touching the curved top of her booted foot, she did not pull away, did not cry out. She let him touch, let him feel the softness of the suede, the roughness of the leather laces. He seemed transfixed on the sense of touch, amazed at the attention to detail, and inwardly, Eruanna preened.

"'Ih," he whispered once, and looked up to her face again, nodding, "'Ih."

She swallowed, staring at the strange, sudden heat in his red eyes, a hand going to her breast as though to defend herself. Worry washed over her – what was she doing, really? She should be screaming, running away from this great beast of a Male. She was damn lucky she was not already dead; he looked as though he could break her in half with minimal effort, though he was indeed smaller than she had thought Trolls to be.

The hand that had been petting her booted foot reached out slowly to her then, palm up, the two thick fingers slightly curled, his voice still soft as he spoke again, "Muv cho. 'Oh qad not."

Eruanna stared first at his hand, then back to his face, hoping that the confusion she outwardly expressed was enough to let him know that she did not understand. The Troll seemed sensitive to her thoughts, and he wiggled his fingers, "Muv cho." he repeated, reaching forward to grasp the hand she still held to her chest.

With a smooth tug, she found herself on her feet and quickly dragged along, he practically wrenching her arm from the socket. She gasped, crying out as she tripped over unseen rocks and tufts of thick grass, struggling to keep up with his long legged pace.

"Wait! Wait up, I-" she tripped again, her free hand going to his forearm to try and steady herself, "Wait, I said! You're too fast!"

The Troll halted, and much to Eruanna's surprise and chagrin, he spun around, his free arm sweeping behind her knees, drawing her up into his arms, her face pressed against the crook of his neck. She gasped again, the scent of sweat and leathers invading her senses as the Troll continued forward, hardly stressed by the effort of his light load.

The Night Elf closed her eyes, burying her face further into his skin, a strange flush covering her cheeks. She could not understand it, could not fathom the reasons, but she found herself unable to drag herself away from his smell. There was an underlying odor to him – something sharp and sulfuric, and she realized then that there was an impressive rifle strapped to his back. She should have felt afraid, but she found the discovery of his weapon an odd comfort as it bounced with the gait of his running step. Again she closed her eyes, breathing deeply of him, the warmth of her own breath heating his skin further, making it moist with her condensation.

His arms around her tightened briefly, and he whispered softly to her, "Hoj, qa'hom. Cho tlhu'."

She recognized the warning in his voice, though what he was warning her of, she did not know, and instead tightened her own arms around his broad shoulders. He sighed into her hair, as though becoming exasperated, and continued forward.

Eruanna lost track of time. It could have been moments, or even hours by the time the Troll stopped. When he did, she peeked from under his chin at their surroundings. He had taken her to an indented part of one of the large hills, so the makeshift camp was covered on three sides. Tucked near the base of the hill was a modest pile of animal fur, well used but clean. A few feet away from that was a smoldering fire, the embers burning brightly.

Gently, the Troll eased her feet to the ground, one arm staying around her waist to make sure she was steady, before he moved forward toward the fire. He pushed at it with a long stick, rushing up the embers so the wood would catch. Eruanna watched him from just outside the firelight, oddly hurt that he was no longer focusing on her.

It was childish, she knew, but could not help it. First she had been denied the proper ceremonies for her Coming of Age, and now, her rescuer seemed not to have a care for her.

Well, this she would not stand for. Not in the slightest. With a huff, she took hold of her skirts, moving swiftly across the camp toward the pile of furs. She dropped down on top of them, stretching herself out on her back, arms above her head, her back arching. This Troll obviously did not know she was of Nobility, so she was going to make damn sure he was schooled.

"You have food, don't you? I believe I am calm enough to eat."

The silence that followed made her look over to him, a small thrill running through her as she spied him, still crouched before the fire. The light of the flames cast odd shadows across his sharp features, and she gulped, loudly.

Despite his semi-small stature, he was indeed formidable looking. His nose was long and hooked, his chin commanding. A pair of tusks gleamed in the firelight, curving up over his upper lip like two, frightening daggers. They were oddly white, she noticed, and had two gold rings fitted snugly down near their base. His skin was a pale, soft blue, accented by the strange, white tribal paint on his face. She wondered about this, her memory reaching back to her hours of study of the races of Azeroth, something niggling at her brain, telling her that this feature was important.

Realization came over her, and she sat up, leaning forward on her hands to look at him more closely. When she was actually paying attention to it, looking for it, she could see the thin, spidery lines that crawled over his bare shoulders and upper arms. They were scars, just a hair's shade darker than the rest of his skin. The pain on his face looked fresh, as though it had been applied scant hours before.

"You are a youngling!" she whispered, shocked and surprised by her discovery. Certainly she thought perhaps this Troll was small for his age, but to discover he was a mere age of 17 years? Well, that would explain his near naive act of protecting her. A fully aged Troll would have known better.

The Troll seemed unconcerned by her tone, his eyes casting down to the bed of the fire once more, making a few sharp thrusts at the logs with his stick, making sparks fly above his head. He looked so calm, so serene, she could almost believe he was gentle. Every fiber of her being warned her not to allow her thoughts to travel that path, but Eruanna felt herself wanting to, regardless. He had saved her life, brought her to a place of safety, and was now building up the fire for warmth, as the temperature would be dropping to near freezing conditions withing hours. He did not have a need to do any of this – she was his hated enemy, and gained nothing from keeping her alive and well. Maybe he was waiting for dawn, to bring her back to his village, or even the great city of Orgrimmar, though some sense told Eruanna that this was not the truth. She could not quite figure out his motives, but there was a feeling in her belly that told her not to worry.

She relaxed again, resting her back against the warm furs of his makeshift bed, tilting her head so she could watch him. Absently, she fingers the laces of her robes, plucking at the leather. He had stopped fiddling with the fire, and had moved off to the side where a large backpack was resting. She had not noticed it right off, though that particular detail didn't seem to matter. When he came back into the right of light, she nearly smiled, for in his hand was a large cut of meat, looking fresh and dripping with its own juices.

He tossed the meat onto a flat rock, warmed by the heat of the fire, the sizzle rising into the air. Eruanna sighed happily, her stomach growling of its own accord, the sound seeming to echo in the otherwise still night. The noise alerted the Troll of her hunger, and she felt herself flushing, a shy smile on her face as he grinned at her fully. He had a nice smile, she thought, even with the intimidating tusks and the red eyes. He lifted a hand, beckoning her forward, closer to the fire. She found herself obliging, moving around the ring of stones until she stood before him. He had relaxed down to the ground, his knees pressed against the sand, sitting on his heels.

She yelped, finding herself suddenly down with him, nearly laying across his lap. He laughed loudly, good-natured humor in the tone, and he juggled her around, resting her comfortably against him, between his knees. He tugged her back, her shoulders resting against his chest. Eruanna sat tense, unsure of the meaning of such actions, but before she knew it, she was leaning into him, giving in to the temptation of enveloping herself in his scent again.

Gunpowder. Leather. Sweat. _Male._ Her eyes drifted closed as she breathed him in deeply, tiny shivers of strange pleasure coursing through her veins. She sighed, contented, when she felt his right hand rest comfortably against her hip, the other reaching out to flip the slab of meat over. Her stomach gurgled again, and she felt his chest rumble with another chuckle, and she found she quite liked the sound of it. It was playful, friendly, almost addictive, and she found herself smiling at her own slight misfortune.

"Ghung, 'Ih?" he asked, shifting his own body so his legs were spread out in front of them. Eruanna rested her hands atop his muscled thighs, encased in nearly skin tight leather, squirming to make herself more comfortable. She had no idea what it was he was saying, she knew he would not understand her, but she felt the need to speak to him, regardless.

"It smells like the Heavens."

He hummed at her, the sound soft. Then he was resting his chin on her shoulder, hunching over her back. The heat of him wrapped around her, his hand sliding over her belly. She did not know why she allowed such actions; if it had been a man of her own kind, she would have screamed, slapped at him, demanded he leave her at once. It just was not done! She may have been of age, true, but Night Elves did not show affection lightly. That was reserved for the bed chambers, for the one you planned to spend your life with. Even those who had been properly joined in ceremony did not display affections such as this out in the open.

But he was Troll, she reminded herself. Trolls were a completely different species all together, and surely their customs would differ just as greatly. Her teachings did not specify in the realms of Troll couplings or their more personal customs, but she had a feeling that he was very much at ease with this gentle show of affection. Why he chose to give her these affections was a mystery, as well, one she felt she should dwell upon further, but for some reason, simply could not bother to at the moment.

It was a nice feeling, being held so close. His arms were strong, his heat distracting, his scent intoxicating. Again, a tiny shiver ran through her limbs, and she struggled to keep her soft sigh at bay, lest she expose the pleasure he was giving her with what, she assumed, was an every day kindness to him.

Her eyes must have drifted closed, because she felt his fingers again, this time gently poking at her ribs, rousing her from her thoughts. The meat had been cooked through, apparently, and he was offering her a small piece of it, between his fingertips.

She stared at his hand, stared at the offering, and nearly reached out to take it from him. But insanity seemed to be her closest friend that night, and with a tartish expression in her eyes she turned her face to him. She drooped her eye lids, a soft smile curving her lips as she did so, watching his reaction. There was surprise in his face, a hairless brow lifting. Good, good... this was working well. She licked her lips, full and pouting, she knew, and parted them, waiting for him to deposit the offering of food to her tastes.

The Troll's other brow shot up, but there was a pleased emotion there, and he did as she silently bid. He pressed the piece of cooked meat to her lips, dripping still with its own juices, and she took it eagerly, chewing with a ravenous hunger she did not even know she possessed. Soon, a second offering came to her, take eagerly as well, only this time she caught hold of his retreating hand, before it was out of her reach.

The Troll watched her, his lids drooping to half mast as she took his thumb and forefinger, her small, pink tongue darting out to lick up the juices from her dinner. A shaky breath escaped him, rattling in his lungs, the hand he still had on her hip tightening for a moment. Whether in warning or encouragement, Eruanna did not know, though she liked the conclusions either of those possibilities brought.

She was playing a dangerous game, she knew, tempting an animal like him. Despite his kindness, despite the gentle nature he had shown her, Eruanna had no doubt that he was dangerous, primal, he could over power her in an instant. He could force her to do anything just then, and as each possible instance fluttered through her mind, she felt her awareness of him grow stronger, a strange desire building in her gut.

_Goddess above,_ she thought, _I __**want**__ him!_

He smiled gently, a heat in his eyes that seemed to match her own, and spoke that strange, rough language again, "Chol, 'Ih. Cho nob nuq bi neh."

Then his hand was beneath her chin, drawing her face up to his own, and Eruanna knew she was completely lost.

The kiss he gave her was far from the gentleness she had been told of by her Mother, the kind that the Night Elf Males would have given. His was strong, tingling with foreign sensations, full of dark promise. Eruanna whimpered, then again as one of his large hands slipped from her hip up her side, then across to her breast. His palm covered it completely, cupped it, tested its weight, and she arched against the touch, her nipple stiffening beneath the heat of his searching hand. Goddess, he was setting her on fire already, with only a touch and a kiss. At that rate, she feared she would burn alive.

Suddenly she was high in the air, he holding her as he had before, carrying her toward the pile of furs. He dropped to his knees before it, easing her down onto her back. Then he was looming over her, crawling over her slighter form like a cat on the prowl. She took a deep breath, swallowed the sudden nervousness welling up inside of her. She had brought this on herself, welcome it, desired it, but her inexperience was sure to be evident, and potentially embarrassing. Would he be careful with her, or would he be rough? Would he take care to not hurt her, or bite and claw and mark her? She knew little of the male form, save for basic illustrations she had taken quick peeks at in her younger years, but she imagined that someone of his size would be proportional, which would make him gargantuan in comparison to her own body.

"Bi chun?" he whispered, taking in her trembling form, the fear clearly written on her face. He stroked strands of her hair away from her face, tracing over the apple of her cheek with his fingertip. She closed her eyes against the sensation, struggling to calm her breathing. Her hand covered his own, and forced her lids open, giving him the most reassuring look she could muster.

It seemed answer enough for him, and he continued forward. Her skirts were carefully lifted, exposing her long, slender legs. His hands seemed to be everywhere then, smoothing over the goosebumps of her skin, pulling at the laces of her robes, running down her ribs. He seemed to be taking her form completely in, imprinting every inch of her body to his memory, his red eyes burning in the dim light of the fire. He savored her like a precious vintage, and it made Eruanna's heart tremble.

Suddenly, she needed to touch him as well. She needed to feel those hair thin scars, needed to see the expanse of his chest and muscles, to know his body as he was knowing hers. She whimpered, her hands searching across his leather shirt for any laces, any clasps that kept it on him. He froze during her explorations, chuckling as she groaned her frustrations, completely lost as to how to remove the damnable thing. He grinned, enjoying her anger, until Eruanna huffed loudly, flopping onto her back, arms crossing over her chest.

"Fine. _You_ remove it then."

He took pity on her, it seemed, and with a quick tug upward, the leather shirt was coming off above his head, then tossed carelessly aside. Eruanna gasped, sitting up on her elbows to examine him.

_He is magnificent!_, she thought, one hand reaching out tentatively to touch him. He settled back on his heels, watching her through shaded eyes as she took in her fill. He was well muscled across his torso, more so than she had originally thought, the bumps and ridges of his pectorals and abdomen rolling into one another in a smooth, handsome way. He was strong, but not bulky, something she found surprisingly attractive when compared to the bubbling muscles of her own kind. Her fingers dragged across his chest, feeling additional scars there, swirling across their patters then down, past his navel. It was an adorable thing, small and perfectly circular, a small shelf of skin covering the top, taut with the tightness of his belly. Her eyes followed her fingers, examining his hips, the way the bones poked out and slid elegantly down, hinting at the masculinity hidden beneath the waste of his leather pants.

Those intrigued her next, and she felt a giddy sense of power wash through her when she slipped the tips of her fingers just beneath the waist line and he hissed in response. Oh, she wanted him to do that _again_. Anything to see his stomach clench and tremble, to hear him express his excitement – the excitement _she_ was causing. It was almost as addicting as his smell.

Her fun was short lived, however, as he curled his fingers around her small hand, pulling it away with a regretful look in his eyes. When she looked up to him, questioning his actions, he simply shook his head, telling her no. She did not understand, and opened her lips to tell him so, but he cut her words short with the press of his mouth to hers. The moment they connected, all protests on her part disappeared, and she gave in to him once more.

He lay fully over her then, propped on his elbows to keep from crushing her small form, his mouth gifting her with kisses along her jaw, down her neck to her collar bone. She sighed softly beneath him, her hands traveling up and down his muscled back. Her hips rolled upward against her will, an instinctual urge burning inside of her, and she gasped aloud as he thrust against her in counterpoint. She felt, then, how much he truly desired her.

The sheer experience was enough to make her lightheaded and lost. His size was just as she imagined it would be, even through the confines of his pants. It was hard as stone, large, hot, and pressing against her most intimately. She gasped again, needing to feel the contact again, to feel his want of her, to know that she had given it to him. He obliged her needy request, pressing his hips against her, rolling the muscles in a smooth motion. Eruanna whimpered, the burning inside of her belly growing outward to the rest of her body. Everything about her seemed hypersensitive, as though she had taken some heady drug. She wanted more of it, this feeling he was giving her. She had to have it. She had to have him, and soon.

"Please... please..." she whispered in his ear, her lips pressing against the lobe, discovering the small, hooped earrings pierced through the cartilage. She flicked them with her tongue, pleased by his answering groan and a more forceful thrust of his hips.

"Ih... Ih..." he whispered in response, his voice rising in pitch as his desperation for her grew, though he seemed unconcerned with moving things along, content with the teasing touches and kisses he was giving her. Eruanna groaned in impatience, her hands growing bold as they struggled with the clasp of his belt. He pulled up, surprise evident on his face as she worked the leather open and down his hips, marveling at each new inch of skin she exposed. Without considering her actions, she reached inside the gap of his pants, her small fingers curling around the hot, readiness of him.

She froze then, in awe of the burning heat she found there, the complete size of him. He let her draw him out, carefully, the heavy length resting against her still robed belly. It was easily the length of two hands long, and she could scarcely wrap her fingers completely around it. She stroked it experimentally, her courage restored when his eyes closed and his head tilted back, an encouraging moan sounding from his throat. She picked up her pace, exploring him, both of her hands working him then, playing with the slit at the tip, smoothing down the length of him, fingernails scratching lightly in the dark, wiry curls at the base. Soon, he began to thrust into her hand, his panting becoming erratic and loud. A fine sheen of sweat broke out across his skin, the smell of heat and sex filling Eruanna's nostrils. She lay her head back, content to touch and let him take his pleasure from her hands, watching eagerly the expressions crossing his face.

He stopped, however, suddenly and with a hiss. Just as quickly, he pried her hands away, forcing them beside her head, pinning the wrists down. She stared up at him defiantly, smugly, and he growled low in his throat in warning. It only served to aid her arrogance, and she licked her lips in temptation. Slowly he moved back, and when she lifted her hands to touch again, he forced them back down, a warning glare keeping her still. She nodded once, letting him know she understood, and when he moved again, she remained perfectly immobile, as he wanted.

Then he was at her throat, the primal side of him snarling into her skin. His teeth were long, edged sharply, and they stung her skin in a way she had never thought could be pleasurable. But it was, tingling and foreign and amazingly wicked. His large hands pawed at her, forgetting the need of gentleness, pulling the leather strings of her robes apart. The cloth fell away from her, exposing her skin to the chilly night air, to his rough fingers. Again, he was stroking over her body, his lips and teeth following after his hands, licking and tasting her as he went, slowly edging down.

Eruanna mewled beneath him, her hips rolling up again, thrusting against his body in an urge to answer his own. Then his mouth was at her apex, his tusks carefully resting beneath the curve of her bottom, and he tasted her for the first time.

Eruanna did not think her body could grow any tighter, the sensation of his lips and tongue, swirling about her otherwise untouched womanhood making the world seem senseless and crazy. For his lack of years, his talent was undeniable, alternating between greedy sweeps of his tongue, to lipped nibbling against the small bud of nerves near the top of her slit. His hands gripped her buttocks, lifting her hips up close to his mouth, then his tongue was _inside_ of her and Eruanna could no longer think.

All she knew was pleasure. All she knew was the Troll's mouth over her, loving her most intimate core in ways that suggested they had been doing this for years. He knew every angle, every crevice to massage, every pause and every pace to take to wind her coil up, to push her until she felt she would combust. Her back bowed, her body thrust into his seeking mouth of its own accord, his fingers squeezed at her fleshy backside, he pushed his tongue in as far as it could go, and Eruanna exploded.

She cried, loudly, her voice cracking with the effort as her insides burned, her muscles spasmed, her womanhood flowing into his mouth like a river. Her eyes refused to open, her lungs could not get enough oxygen. She clawed at the furs beneath her. She sobbed so hard her ribs hurt, begging him to stop, to never _ever_ let it end.

Then slowly, slowly, she floated back to the surface of the world, her heart pounding harder than before, her lungs aching. And still, _still_ his mouth kissed and swept and licked, taking in the remainders of her first climax, her virginal release, like precious ambrosia. The sight of him, his eyes closed serenely, his mouth working her slowly, was enough to make her insides tremble again, to crave more of him.

He seemed to sense her needs, the shaking of her body, and carefully he pulled away, his breath hot against her still burning mound. He was panting as well, as though her climax had been just as tiring for him. He slid up her body, his great length sliding against her now open, relaxed thighs to brush against her womanhood, making them both shiver. Her hands went to his shoulders, drawing him in for another kiss, their tongues battling against each other, need driving their actions to a fevered pitch.

Eruanna choked on her breath when, suddenly, she felt one of his thick fingers probing at her, the penetration slick with her own juices, with far more ease than she had expected. It felt huge to her virgin tunnel, stretching her open in the most pleasant way. With his finger alone he filled her, pressing gently at various angles, searching for the secret within her that would bring her greater pleasure. She cried against him, pressing her forehead to his chest as he molested her insides, making her pelvis curl into the motions, her body already eager for more.

She felt herself ascend again, teetering on the edge of a second release when he withdrew from her, leaving her shaken and waiting. She panted, staring at him, begging him to answer her call for mercy. He smiled lazily at her, one hand petting back her sweat dampened hair, as if to ease her fears. He would not leave her wanting, that night.

She gulped in mouthfuls of air, watching as he moved slowly, as though worried he would frighten her away, despite all they had done already. He lifted her knees to a bent position, holding himself up with one long, trembling arm, his freehand moving to his thick erection, pressing the head to her opening.

Despite her desire for him, despite the wetness between her legs, Eruanna felt herself tense, still unsure she could handle the size of him, frightened of the pain she knew would be coming. Again, he seemed to sense her troubles, and as carefully as he could, though she could see the strain on his face, he eased himself inside. She gasped loudly, the thickness much more than that of his finger, feeling herself stretched to limits she had not known possible. Desperately, she gripped at him, squeezing and releasing her hands, struggling to maintain her composure, to will her body to relax, to allow him entrance to her. She wanted him so badly, she must bear through this. She needed him.

Finally she felt him stop, recognized the resistance within her that marked her virginity. He caught her gaze with his own, wanted her to look into his eyes as he took what was most precious to her, to see his gratitude as she gave it to him freely.

Softly, his lips pressed to her brow, his whispered breath a sweetness she could not ignore, "Tihilhal meh hochlogh.", and then, he broke through her.

The pain was nothing like she had expected, enhanced by the size of him. She cried out painfully, her nails digging into his shoulders as tears leaked from her eyes. He did not move, fully seated within her body as she wept, trembling in his suddenly tight, embracing hold. He made soft, shushing noises to her, whispered gentle words in her ear that could not seem to breech the haze of pain in her mind. He stroked her hair back and away, pressing desperate kisses to her brow and temples, and gradually, Eruanna began to hear the desperate panic in his voice. He feared for her, he regretted the hurt he had brought to her, and for this alone, she could easily forgive him.

After long, long moments, the pain within her receded to a dull throb, nearly nonexistent. Her muscles relaxed within her, and she felt his member twitch from the change in pressure. There was no pain when his length pressed at her, and she sighed softly, her hand stroking down his spine to encourage him, to urge him to begin again.

He did so with care, watching her face closely, to make sure there was nothing painful, nothing uncomfortable. Her passions had cooled with the loss of her virginity, but the smell of him, the feel of him, hot and ready within her easily stoked the fires. Her breathing began to quicken, her inner most muscles massaging his length, drawing him further in.

The Troll grunted with effort, with the strain to be easy with her, to be gentle. She watched his face contort with concentration, watched the sweat break out upon his brow and trickle down, dampening the pure white paint across his cheeks and nose. She touched his face, her fingertips smearing across the moistened paint, a stark contrast to her own dark, lavender skin. It was fascinating in its imagery, as though she had taken a piece of him for her own. Saucily, she spread her fingers over her chest, down to the tips of her breasts, spreading the paint in long lines. She watched, gratified, as the Troll's eyes flared, and all gentleness abandoned.

He gripped her hips roughly, sitting himself upright, dragging her bottom atop his lap. His thrusts came quick and sharp, stabbing into her burning core. Eruanna wailed, her head thrashing from side to side as he assaulted her senses in every way imaginable. He was primal, an animal from the dawn of time, taking her, marking her, making her his and his alone with his powerful possession.

"Tugh!" he called out, gritting his teeth, tossing his head back, "Tugh!"

Eruanna sensed his urgency, even if she did not know the meaning of his words. She mewled to him, pulling on his hands, drawing him back above her. He did as she bid, never stilling his thrusts, instead hooking her knees across his elbow, nearly bending her in half as he moved to be face to face with her. The new angle afforded her more feelings, more sensations, and Eruanna recognized the fire growing inside her.

"Please, wait...wait for me!" she cried, her toes curling of their own accord, her thighs trembling at the ready. The Troll growled, grunted and panted, struggling in vain to stave off his own completion for her. Eruanna struggled, clawed mindless at his back, recognizing the hot wetness of blood beneath her fingernails. The pain only served to excite her lover more and she watched, fascinated, as the red of his eyes bled out, enveloping the entirety of the globes in a burning fire. She had triggered something in him, a primitive rage, and it made her feel even more powerful than before.

With a quickness she had not yet witnessed, he withdrew from her body, leaving her again poised on the edge of oblivion, only to be juggled around onto her belly, her hips drug upward to accommodate his height. He pushed back in to her immediately, his body pistoning into hers at a greater speed, a greater strength afforded by the new position. Eruanna could not breath, the intensity so great, throaty cries and moans the only noises she could make to express her gratitude of him.

He was so strong, he was incredible, he was _killing_ her, he was _tearing her apart and Goddess don't let him stop please never let it end-_

Eruanna did not know where she was, what was happening to her. All she knew was pleasure, all she could sense was reaching the peak of her consciousness, all quiet around her. Then she was falling down, striking places of jolting ecstasy that left her throat raw from her screams.

And suddenly she was there, back inside her body, her heart pounding and her skin damp with sweat. There was a burning pain in her left shoulder, blood dripping down her arm. Buries in her skin was the Troll's teeth - he had bitten her in the peak of his own passions, for what reasons she did not know, but the taste of seemed to serve as an amplifier for him, his hips still jerking in frantic, erratic spasms as he filled her with his seed. Low growls could be heard through his lips and her flesh, the glow of his rage hazed eyes turning the left side of Eruanna's vision pink.

Then she could take no more. Her muscles loosened, she collapsed forward to the bed of furs, the Troll still atop her, his hips still twitching in their final bursts of strength. Surprisingly, she could still breath, even with his full weight on her. Gradually, the glow of his eyes faded, and he carefully opened his jaws. She barely felt the pain of his bite, the area around thrumming. He pulled away from her back, and allowed his softening erection to slip from her body, the sensation making them both tremble and moan.

Then he was beside her, tugging at her, pulling her into the circle of his arms. She gladly crawled into him, burying her nose into his neck again, breathing her scent on him now just as much as his own, the revelation pleasing to her.

"Bi batlh cho." he whispered into her hair, his hands stroking across her back. Eruanna sighed, nuzzling as close as she could. At the back of her mind, she acknowledged that he was shifting, bringing another fur up and over their bodies, though she couldn't imagine the need - he was warm enough to keep them both cozy, even through the freezing temperatures of the Barren's night.

"'Ih be'. Vaj, vaj ih."

She did not know what he said, but he said it so softly, so much in awe, it made Eruanna smile, even after she had fallen asleep.

When Eruanna awoke, the first thing she noticed was that she was chilled. It made little sense to her; she had been so warm last night, so comfortable, and had slept so very, very soundly. She whined at the back of her throat, reaching out to the warmth she just knew was close by, to pull him back to her so he could allow her to leech away his body heat for her own. She imagined him rolling his eyes, but giving in to her with a slight smirk, the thought making her smile.

But she did not meet the Troll's heat. She met nothing but the quickly cooling ground, where his body had once lain. Her eyes snapped open, her head jerking around to search for any sign of him, but finding the little camp empty.

Gone was his pack. Gone was his armor. All he had left behind, out of necessity, was the fur she lay on. Eruanna shivered as she sat up, realizing then that her rob was back on her person, though not laced and closed. She did so hastily to stave off the chill of the early morning air.

Where in the world had he gone?

"Hello?" she called, softly, her voice hardly carrying. She tried again, but found she could not find the will to actually cry out for him. Somewhere inside, she knew he was gone for good, and that thought made her feel colder. Unwanted, despite her struggle not to, Eruanna found herself burying her face into her palms, weeping.

It seemed like hours that she cried, that it took so long for her Father's trackers to finally come upon her. She was still crying when they approached, shaking her shoulder, begging her to answer their questions of concern. Was she alright? Had she been hurt? On and on the questions came, and Eruanna had to use sheer force of will to answer them.

Was she alright? _No._ "Yes, I am alright."

Was she hurt? _Immeasurably._ "No, I have sustained no injuries."

Was she ready to return to her family, now? _Kill me, first._ "Yes. Let us go."

She allowed one of the trackers to help her to her feet, watching as the older woman's nose wrinkled, "Ach, I apologize, My Lady, but there is the reek of Troll on you."

Eruanna blinked, an unwanted flush spreading on her cheeks, "Um.. I came across the fur here, last night. Perhaps it belonged to a Troll at one point?"

The second tracker lifted a corner, gifting it a slight sniff, recoiling almost immediately, "Quite right, My Lady. How you managed to sleep through the stench, I will never know."

_Trolls do not stink, fool. My Troll did not._ She coughed lightly, forcing herself to choke out the thoughts. He was not her Troll. He never was. It was childish and foolish to think it otherwise.

Silently, she walked out of the little alcove, following demurely behind her escorts as they chattered away, blabbering about how much difficulty they had finding the place, how it seemed she had disappeared entirely! Eruanna had no energy for them, no strength to pay attention. All she wanted then was to get home to Teldrassil, to Darnassus, and sleep for the next thousand years. Maybe then, she could forget the aching in her breast.

Absently, she adjusted the belt around her waste, nearly stopping short when she heard the soft, nearly inaudible clack from within one of her pockets. Her eyes darted up, staring at the trackers' backs, being certain they were too caught up in themselves to notice as she slipped her hand inside the pocket, gripping whatever was in there.

At first, she thought it to be a strand of rope, though how it would have gotten there, she had no clue. So she retrieved it, pulling it partway out, and glancing at it from the corner of her eye.

Immediately, something inside of her clenched, then loosened. It was a small, tight braid, the color the lotus flower. It was secured on both ends, so as to not unravel, a leather strip at the top, and a rodent skull with hand carved, painted decorative beads on the other. Despite herself, despite her hurt, Eruanna smiled, and tucked the gift back into her pocket.

She knew, somewhere, there was Troll with one less braid, wandering through the Barrens, the memory of his first conquest as an adult playing across his memory. And she knew he would never forget her, forget the gift she had given to him, for he had made sure she would never forget him as well.


End file.
